


The Art of Love

by Amandarinh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Artist Marco Bott, Fluff and Angst, Huntington's Disease, M/M, Photographer Jean Kirstein, Starts cute, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amandarinh/pseuds/Amandarinh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean a young photographer falls in love with a young artist who turns his world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know Much about Huntington's disease so please don't hold that against me. Also it's my first Jean/Marco fic so please excuse me it they're out of character.

Jean lived a dull life, nothing seemed to change from day to day. He woke up around the same time, brushed his teeth, had the same breakfast, then left for class with his camera. After class he walked around campus taking photographs, he’d stop for coffee before moving on to a park a couple blocks from the college. When Jean returned home he took off his shoes changed into a pair of sweatpants and  threw on an old shirt. He ate ramen while going through that day's photos then go to bed roughly the same time.  Jean knew he was stuck in a rut, he didn’t particularly like it either, but he couldn’t do much about it. 

It was a Saturday, yet Jean still woke up at eight o’clock, he followed through his morning routine. He headed out the door, his camera in hand and a messenger bag over his shoulder.  Jean sadly watched as the couples hands intertwined in front of him, he quickly took a photo of just their hands without the couple noticing. Jean finally entered the park with a sigh, he took pictures of flowers, trees, and birds, anything and everything he crossed paths with.  His face was basically glued to the camera’s screen as he rounded the corner. Jean glanced up and was met with a breathtaking sight.  Perched on the bench under a beautiful maple tree was a boy around Jean’s age. The sun brightened his tan skin, making the dark constellations that covered every visible surface, pop out even more then they probably usually do. This celestial being bent over a sketchbook pressing a pencil against the white paper in graceful, precise yet loose movements. He glance up for a moment looking directly in front of him with a dreamy expression, Jean quickly snapped a photo before the opportunity was lost. As the man turned to him, Jean quickly turned to act like he was taking pictures of a nearby tree. The man smiled slightly before turning back to the sketchbook, making Jean’s features lighten in return.  Jean started to walk towards the man hoping to start a conversation.  As he reached the proper distance he wimped out and continued to walk past, but not without catching the named signed on the edge of the paper, Marco. 

Jean suddenly had something to look forward to everyday.  Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, each day Jean returned to the park looking for the man he assumed to be Marco. Everyday Marco was there if not on his bench then sat on the edge of the water fountain. Each day Jean went with the idea of talking to the man he danced with in his dreams, each day Jean turned away from that idea.  

About three weeks after Jean started seeing the beautiful human in the park he finally urged himself to not turn but only a steps away the man’s phone began to ring. Marco rushed throwing his things into his bag, He ran past Jean still on the phone. Jean turned back to glance at the bench before leaving when he spotted a black book sitting there, he picked up the book and placed it in his bag before going home. That night while going through his pictures of the last week he landed on the one of Marco sitting on the bench with a dreamy expression. The corner of Jean’s lips turned up slightly, he reached for his bag and pulled out Marco’s black book, the cover had the same texture as canvas. Jean flipped through the book, beautiful sketches of flowers and people with the occasional bird filled the book. There were sketches he clearly did in the park, like a parent pushing their kid on the swing a couple enjoying a picnic under a tree, as well as sketches of people dancing and playing instruments. Jean studied the sketches with wonder, he’s never been good with a pencil. On the last used page of the sketchbook was Jean looking down at his camera. It was very detailed right down to the eye lashes.  The shading makes it look almost like a black and white photography. Jean felt his stomach twist and a spark of hope and ambition found it’s way into his brain.   

Jean continued to visit the park everyday. Instead of wondering around taking pictures he sat on the bench waiting. Through snow and rain, Jean sat through it all hoping Marco will appear.  This continued on for months soon the winter turned into spring. For six months, excluding holidays of course,  Jean waited in the park longing for just a glance of his freckled angel. 

On the warm April Sunday Jean’s wish was granted. He sat on the bench knowing it will be the last time he tried to return the sketchbook. Jean spotted Marco approach gazing at the ground with a mournful expression, Jean panicked, he left he sketchbook on the bench hoping Marco will see it. He hid behind a tree to watch , Maro almost passed the book by. When he did spot it hope spread its way through his face then a overly joyed expression as he opened the book to see it was his. Marco head shot up as he scanned the area looking for the person who returned his book as he did this Jean stepped out from behind the tree and approached him. Marco caught Jean’s eye and he smiled warmly at him. Jean gave a slight smile back studying the way Marco’s eyes crinkle slightly at the small gesture.  

Marco motioned for Jean to sit with him, he almost declined but thankfully for the both of them, decided against it. They talked for hours before Marco’s phone started to go off, interrupting him on his rant about tiny velociraptors that can fit in your pocket.  He excused himself and they parted, but not without agreeing to meet there tomorrow.  

Jean and Marco met at the park for a month or so after their first proper introduction.  Marco would walk with Jean as he took photos and even modeled for some of them. Sometimes Jean and Marco would sit there in silence, Marco with his tongue stuck out in concentration as Jean watched him turn a couple lines into a beautiful portrait. They didn’t worry about what they were to the other and just enjoyed each other’s company. However the same time everyday Marco would have to leave suddenly. Their time was cut short everyday and Jean was starting to get curious why so he approached Jean on a warm sunny day. 

Marco was seated under the Maple tree they usually sought to for shade, Jean paused for a moment taking in the sight and working up the nerve to approach him on the subject. He brought the fresh air into his lungs then exhaled, he smiled warmly as he took his seat next to Marco. 

“Hey Marco,” Jean hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Jean?” Marco responded turning away from his sketch towards the slightly taller man.

“Why do you leave around the same time everyday?” Jean asked. Marco shifted uncomfortably looking everywhere but at Jean. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want too.” Jean scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

“No, no, it’s okay” Marco sighed. “I knew I would have to tell you sooner or later..” He took a breath “My mother has Huntington’s disease, it this hereditary disease that messes with your cognitive abilities. I visit her everyday, and routine is good for her…” Marco hesitated trying to work out the next part, Jean intertwined their fingers. “I have to go to the hospital she’s staying at for a weekly check up. I only have a couple more years until my mind starts to deteriorate.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that Marco.” Jean wrapped his arm around the freckled boy. 

“It’s okay if you want to leave. I realized things between us were starting to get serious so now just in case you were thinking of a long time thing you can run cause I may not have time to give.” Marco sighed, his eyes begging for Jean to stay despite his tongue telling him to go.  

“Well, I’ll take whatever time I can get.” Jean shrugged has Marco beamed up to him. They carried on until it was time for Marco to leave. 

“Would you like to join me?” Marco asked 

“Is it okay for me too?” Jean responded 

“Yeah, I’m going to check to make sure it’s a good day for her If it is you can come in, it not do you mind waiting I can wrap it up quickly.” Marco stood up and offered Jean his hand.

“Okay,” Jean took Marco’s hand in his.

Luckily it was a good day to meet Marco’s mom. It was one of those rare days you could hardly tell there was anything wrong. Marco knew they seemed to be rushing things, but when dealing with Huntington’s you don’t take opportunities for granted. Like he predicted Jean and his mother got along well, as they bid their farewells for the day she took the time to ask Jean to take care of her son and to tell Marco not to let Jean go. 

 

A year later Jean and Marco took the date of  April seventeenth and made it their own by saying I do. Marco’s mother was able to witness her only child fall in love and be happy. A couple months later she passed away. 

Jean and Marco lived in sweet bliss until a month or so after Marco’s forty-first birthday, when Marco started to show serious symptoms of Huntington’s. From there his health took a rapid decrease. He soon had to be admitted to the same home that took care of his mother; Jean practically lived there with Marco. 

One day Jean walked into the room to see Marco sitting at the table. Papers scattered around him, his head hung as his hands twitched. Jean rushed to his side seeing the case of pencils thrown to the side. 

“Marco are you okay?” Worry couldn’t stop itself from flooding Jean’s voice

“ I-I can’t d-draw.” Marco choked out through a sob. Jean gently pulled Marco out of the chair and all the floor with him. He wrapped his body around the smaller man who hid his face in Jean’s chest.  Throughout his life when Marco had nowhere else to turn his art was there for him, but now it was gone.  

 

Two years after that day Jean lost Marco to his own hands. A week after finding his partner’s lifeless body Jean stood dressed in all black over a coffin alone. It took Jean another three weeks before he found himself back at the room Marco spent his last couple months in. A box of Marco’s belongings was waiting on the neatly  made bed. He knew it was Christa, Marco’s nurse, that packed it. 

Jean took a deep breath before sitting on the bed and opening the box. The first thing was a framed photo of them smiling happily on their wedding day, then it was a photo album that had ‘ To help you remember us’ engraved on the front in swirly black letters. There were a couple more books here then five sketch books. The first was the one he returned, the next four were from the nineteen years they’ve spent together. Moments that weren’t captured by the lens of a camera were internalized by the marks of a pencil. Jean admired the amount of detail in each piece. You could pinpoint the exact moment he started to decrease because the pencil lines were less precise but still remarkable nonetheless. The last drawing in the last book as a very rough sketch of Jean cradling Marco on the floor. On the very last page was a note written with shaky letter’s. 

_ Dear Jean, _

_ My love, I’m so sorry to leave you so soon. Thank you for being my anchor through the rockiest years of my life. Thank you for holding my hand and being patient when I couldn’t remember how to do the most basic of tasks. I pray you aren’t the one to find me… I don’t want to do that to you. You know my luck though. I’m sorry I did this to you. I did it because I felt myself starting to slip away. When you last came to visit it took me five minutes before I remembered who you were.  I acted like I did not to hurt you because I felt deep within my bones you are important to me despite not remembering your name. I did not want to live a day where I didn’t know who my faithful and loving Jean was. I want you to know that I did not take my life in some stupid whim induced but insanity but that I did so knowing it was what I wanted and that I was planning to leave the world for awhile now. Again I’m so very sorry I did this to you. Please take comfort in knowing that I’m now free from the confining body tying me to the Earth, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll be waiting for you, please don’t come too soon, I’m patient. Please don’t waste your life mourning me. Know that I live on through the things I enjoyed most: the sunset, art, and you. The memory of me survives through your smile, please don’t forget that. I hope you find love again. I love you and I’ll be waiting for you. _

_ Love your one and only, _

_ Marco _

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this short film  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkpE4xICkns


End file.
